


From Here to Eternity

by calmdad



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga), Devilman Crybaby - Fandom
Genre: Devilman Crybaby universe, M/M, Reincarnation, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 17:44:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13369881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calmdad/pseuds/calmdad
Summary: After the end of everything, the Earth is remade anew and the cycle of events begins all over again for God's eternal punishment of an angel fallen too far from His light. Supposedly. But with each incarnation, there's the fraction of a chance that something unexpected could change the entire turn of events and bring a new ending.





	From Here to Eternity

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of Netflix's "Devilman Crybaby" anime adaption and isn't affiliated with any other incarnation of the franchise, including the manga.

Cradled in a frigid sea, awareness comes slowly. He opens his eyes to the sensation of being rocked underneath a pitch-black sky, and for a moment, all is calm. That doesn't remain true for long; the stillness of this moment is an illusion brought on by the cold seeping into his bones, and the ocean is quick to prove it isn't some tame little pond. Waves crash against his small frame, dragging him underneath the water, and he doesn't have the energy to thrash. His eyes slide closed. Let the water take him.

He is ready. " _By the mystery of Your death and resurrection, bathe this child in light--_ " He is ready. " _Let him be born again, free of all sin that has come before._ " He is ready. " _In Your name, we pray._ "

Air at long last that burns his chest with each shallow gasp. Not yet. Not just yet. This is not where he meets his end. Clawing and scraping every inch forward, fighting the waves all the way, it's another eternity before he's scrabbling at wet sand, forcing his limbs weighted with lead to move just a little further. The shivering courses through his body, his teeth clack together in a noise not even the ocean waves can drown out. If he can just keep going, get somewhere safe...

He reaches out toward the sky, shaking hand aching to grasp some bright, distant star that looks upon him with disdain. He is alone. Unnoticed, unwanted. And then.

Another pair of eyes, brown to his blue, meet his own. And then.

"Are you okay?"

Another hand, soft to the touch, grasps his own. And then.

"It's okay."

Another body, warm where his is cold, presses itself against his own. And then.

"Don't be afraid."

The words are in a language his clumsy mind can't parse; he feels the intention rather than hearing it. When he thought himself alone in the world, this tiny thread of hope, fragile, breakable, beautiful, comes to meet him. It's here he feels, for the first time, clutched in a pair of scrawny arms like he's some treasure to be kept safe, some fleeting sense of familiarity. Of knowing. Of _yearning_.

 _This is Akira_ , he's told.

 _Mine_ , he thinks instead.

One look at his blond hair, blue eyes, and pale skin, and he's deemed a castaway. He mentions the ocean only once, to Akira and no one else. There are no news reports of a missing child, no claim from a foreign embassy, only a sodden little scrap of a child clutching a neighborhood boy's hand for all its worth. For better or for worse, he's the state's problem now. He learns the term "ward" before he understands "food," and "awful little guttersnipe" before "table manners."

There's always more to learn.

They name him Ryo Asuka. He won't find out just how fitting the name is for years to come, when he learns it contains the characters for "flying bird" and "finish," so for now, it remains nothing but a convenience. A way to differentiate between one member of cattle and the next. But there are moments when that name comes from Akira and he-- _Ryo_ \-- feels something in his chest flutter like mad, seeking escape.

With the utmost care possible, Ryo takes that feeling and does his best to smother it.

It even works, sometimes.

The volunteers' minds are abuzz with news of a woman with hair a shocking red that makes businesswear look immodest, and Ryo doesn't bother to feign surprise when she appears, her too-wide smiled aimed squarely at him. She introduces herself as Jenny and he suggests she try something he read in a book once. That prompts the other adults in the room to gasp in shock, some rushing to cover the other children's ears, but Jenny only laughs.

"She's come to take you home," says the first employee to recover, though he can hear her resisting the urge to pour herself a stiff drink.

"There's water on the counter," Ryo responds instead and turns his back, intent on constructing his latest masterpiece of blocks. "I'm not going anywhere."

A hand grips his arm, forceful enough that he fishes into his pocket, fingers closing around his box cutter with half a mind to teach anyone that thinks they can touch him a lesson, before Jenny steps in. "It seems I was mistaken," she says, a mockery of regret stretched too far on her features. "This isn't my little boy." Only when the smudge of her car disappears on the horizon does his hold finally relax.

What does earn his genuine surprise long after is the satisfaction he can feel from all the way across the facility he calls home. It's the sound a herd of slow, plodding cattle finally free of a yapping pup nipping at their heels, of " _finally, he's not our problem anymore_." Ryo Asuka is too big a handful, too unpredictable, too difficult. It's better for him. Better for the other children.

They're taking him away.

Away from Akira.

The certainty doesn't cause him to explode but turns him cold. He's glacial inside even while red-faced and screaming, stamping his foot and shaking off the grip of anyone that tries to get him under control. He's glacial up until the moment he decides the only way to get what he wants is to hold a razor to a volunteer's throat. One of the soft, pretty ones, the kind they'd hate to have to scrub out of the carpet. It's all the option he has left anymore.

But like before, something stays his hand before he can draw his blade. It's the appearance of a friendly bearded face that his peers liked to joke was his real father. Dimly, the knowledge comes to him: Noel Makimura. Miki's father and part of the reason why his time with Akira was limited. Ryo wonders for a brief instant what he might look like as a splatter against the carpet.

Until he doesn't wonder anymore, because it turns out that Akira's captor is his salvation. Noel reasons that His Problem (the thing they don't talk about apart from hushed whispers about medication when they think he isn't listening) is spiritual rather than psychological. He says that what Ryo needs is a family, not isolation, and that Noel's home is open to him. If he wants it.

He wants it more than anything in this world. Everybody wins; this way, he's not separated and he's out of their hair. It's the perfect solution. Not an opportunity he can afford to waste. Ryo sniffs, does his best to look ashamed of his earlier outburst, and clings to Noel's leg with everything he has. With a tiny hand clutching his sleeve the entire trip back, Noel ushers him through his-- _Akira's_ \-- Ryo's front door.

"Honey, I'm home!" comes Noel's call. Much softer, he tells Ryo, "Go on, you can say it, too. This is your home now."

So it is.

"... I'm home." His is a pitiful echo of his caretaker's good-natured bellow, but it's the best he can accomplish. For now.


End file.
